Too Good, Too Bad
by TheHufflepunk
Summary: Weird things are abound at Hogwarts... Ron realizes he's an idiot and tries to rectify the situation with Hermione, Harry assumes the role of Switzerland, and Padfoot and Prongs conspire to confuse and scare as many people as they can from beyond the veil
1. Prologue: Don't Bother None

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, which as you all should know by now, is actually property of Jo Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic books. As such, I own none of the characters, either.

Also, I do not own Cowboy Bebop- that wonderful series belongs to Sunrise- all I do is quote it extensively.

**Author's Note:** Anyone who can name the quotes used, and what episode they are from, receive points for their respective Houses… and who knows, if you get enough right throughout the story, you might even come away with a Peking Duck or Ganymede Rock Lobster…

Prologue: Don't Bother None

The past week had been extremely strange, but it had started inconspicuously enough; Hermione was annoyed with Ron. As any Hogwarts student knew—or even staff member—this was not an unusual occurrence. In fact, it would have been more worrying had the two not been squabbling every five minutes; it was a well-known fact—to perhaps all but the pair in question—that a major cause of these constant fights was the ever-present _Unresolved Sexual Tension._ If the bickering had suddenly stopped, all would be pondering the question as to where the dreaded _UST_ had disappeared to, and that was a question no one wanted to ponder.

In any case, Hermione was annoyed with Ron. Ron was oblivious to this fact for one reason: he was asleep. Of course, as he was snoring away loudly in the middle of History of Magic, this was also the reason for Hermione's annoyance-- and, as it turned out, the reason for the rest of his classmates' annoyance as well. His snoring was so loud that he was keeping all of his classmates awake. Professor Binns every so often would send bemused glances his way, showing an awareness of his students that was completely unprecedented.

At last, the bell rang and the class quickly dissipated. As his classmates filed out of the room, Ron stirred and blearily opened his eyes to see a very sour looking Hermione glaring down at him.

"Having ourselves a little nap, huh?" she asked sardonically.

"I had a sweet dream," Ron informed her.

"That's heartwarming," she replied, "but next time, please leave your 'sweet dreams' in the dormitory."

Ron heard a snort of laughter behind him and turned to look at the source. It was Harry, arms crossed, and clearly trying to keep an impassive expression.

_"What?"_

"Ron," started Hermione in her perfected prefect voice, "you were sleeping in class."

"So what? I bet you were the only one awake, Hermione—"

"Actually, nobody else was asleep," interrupted Harry.

"Huh?" said Ron, so very articulately.

"You were snoring so loudly you kept the entire class awake, and—"

"And I wasn't able to concentrate on the lecture enough to take sufficient notes!" Hermione exclaimed, not seeming to be able to wait any longer to berate Ron about his academic blasphemy.

He tried to protest, "I'm sure it wasn't that bad—"

"Ron, even Binns noticed," stated Harry.

Ron's eyes widened and his ears began to turn red. "But—but Binns always just drones on, the great bore—he's practically asleep himself!"

"Not today," supplied Harry. It was really getting quite hard for him to suppress his laughter.

"Congratulations, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically, "we can now officially say you snore loud enough to wake the dead.

With that apparently marking the end of the conversation, Hermione stalked out of the classroom. Harry and Ron followed behind her, quietly and cautiously.

"Harry," said Ron, trying to get at least one person on his side, "it can't have been that bad, can it? I mean, there's no reason for her to be so upset, right?"

Ron was looking at him expectantly and Hermione, apparently having heard the last comment, had stopped and was now staring at Harry as if just daring him to say something.

Sensing danger, Harry quickly backed out verbally: "I don't know and I have no opinion."

Despite Harry's obvious effort at neutrality, Ron would not give up on his quest to gain his best friend's support. All through lunch, and then on the way to Potions, Ron badgered Harry to give an opinion of the episode that morning. For his part, Harry kept up an admirable impression of Switzerland.

Finally, as they entered the Potions dungeon, Ron arrived at the conclusion that maybe, possibly, there was a small chance that Hermione just might actually have at least a little justification in her annoyance. This revelation might have been caused by the fact that she had refused to sit anywhere near Ron in this class, apparently for fear that he had suddenly contracted narcolepsy and would distract her once again from her schoolwork with his deafening snores.

Ron sighed as he sat down next to Harry. "Okay, you're right. Maybe it was that bad."

Harry repressed a snort of laughter at the long-delayed statement of the obvious.

"So, what should I do to get back on Hermione's good side?" Ron continued, sending a pleading look in Harry's direction.

Sensing the danger of giving Ron advice that had a very good chance of backfiring spectacularly on the both of them, Harry played the broken record:

"I don't know and I have no opinion."

Oh, if Harry only knew what trouble that statement would cause.


	2. Chapter 1: Diggin'

**Disclaimer:** As you would undoubtedly guess, seeing as this is posted on , I do not own Harry Potter. You know who owns that. Nor do I own Cowboy Bebop. That wonderful show is owned by Sunrise, Inc. All titles (fic and chapter) are songs from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack and are therefore property of Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts.

**Author's Notes:** Points to whoever can identify the Bebop quotes and references. Those who can identify the episodes from which they come might even come away with a Peking Duck or aGanymede Rock Lobster.

Chapter 1: Diggin'

As Harry sat next to Ron, stirring his potion, he mused on the overgrown git that was Professor Snape. Said git was at the moment ignoring Harry in favor of his other favorite victim, Neville Longbottom, who was fairly quaking under the glare Snape was sending him upon seeing that Neville's potion was a sickly green color—it was supposed to be a pale blue.

Shaking his head, Harry looked at his own potion and added two ounces of powdered moonstone.

Though it would have cost him the chance at being an auror, Harry almost wished that he hadn't made it into NEWT Potions, because then he wouldn't have to deal with the grouchy bastard so often.

Unfortunately, not only had he been placed in NEWT Potions, but Professor Dumbledore had ordered that occlumency lessons be resumed, so Harry was seeing much more of the Potions Master than he wanted to. This year, the lessons had actually been somewhat of an improvement—not because Snape had suddenly decided to develop a soul, but rather because the Headmaster had come up with a way to monitor the lessons closely to make sure the pair remained civil, without attending the lessons in person. Presumably under the threat of Dumbledore's ire, Snape had finally gotten around to teaching Harry actual methods people used to build up mental shields. It was amazing how far one could progress with actual _instruction._ Knowing what he should be doing had made a vast improvement in the lessons, and Harry was consistently getting better at keeping Snape's greasy mind out of his own.

Glancing at Snape, who was now sneering at Terry Boot, he noticed that Snape was acting oddly. While Harry observed that he looked very irritable about something (_what a surprise_), he also seemed to be doing his level best to completely ignore Harry. This behavior completely defied the way he had acted in the past, and Harry could not think of a possible explanation. Strange, that.

Soon, Harry heard bell signaling the end of the period, and rushed to bottle his potion and collect all his books and supplies. Just as he was about to leave the classroom with Ron and Hermione, he found himself under Snape's overly large nose.

"Potter," he spat, "do not forget your _remedial potions_ tonight."

_Yeah_, thought Harry_, because I still need reminding after weeks of bi-weekly lessons…_

Harry heard Malfoy sniggering from where he was lurking behind the door, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The ferret really needed to get himself a hobby.

"You will not be late," Snape growled, glaring at him.

_Though he had not been late to a single lesson, Harry suddenly saw a vision of Snape coming to hunt him down for daring to commit the unforgivable sin of tardiness. For some reason, assassin Snape was wearing a top hat, a coat with long tails, and was carrying a cane. He was also sporting a maniacal grin._

"_Hello, boy," he was saying, "I've journeyed here tonight in order to take your life…" _

Harry snapped out of his daydream as Snape stalked away, and shook his head, trying to clear it. As he walked away from the Potions classroom with Ron and Hermione—Hermione now a bit more tolerant of Ron now that she'd spent a class period with not one snore from his direction—Harry wondered if he'd been inhaling a few too many potions fumes.

* * *

That evening, Ron slouched back in a large, overstuffed chair in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Though Hermione had remained civil to him for the rest of the day, she was also maintaining an air of coolness towards him. Ron knew he needed to do something to rectify the situation, and as quickly as possible. It would no doubt come as a surprise to, well, the entire population of Hogwarts, but Ron _was_ actually aware of the charged feelings between him and Hermione, and exactly what they meant; he was simply very nervous about the prospect of acting upon them. But however nervous he was, he had been planning to make a move fairly soon—until the History of Magic incident that morning, where everything suddenly went utterly pear shaped. 

Ron Weasley was at least a little bit smarter than how he was conceived by most of Hogwarts, and realized that really, this morning's incident would not be all that important if isolated, but it was really just the icing on the cake. It was the icing on Hermione's cake, which was made up of layers upon layers of Ron's past mistakes blended together with huge amounts of incomprehensible _girl-logic_, and Ron knew that that cake needed to be obliterated if he wanted to have any chance with Hermione at all.

_But how does one go about obliterating cakes of girl-logic,_ he wondered, somehow not realizing just how odd his inner metaphor had gotten.

"Damn," he muttered, "she really should have written that book…"

Ron needed help. And as his best friend had made perfectly clear he wouldn't be offering any—and as he was currently in 'remedial potions' (though really, how many people actually believed a NEWT Potions student was still receiving remedial lessons?)—Ron would have to find help elsewhere. But who was he to go to? Quite obviously he couldn't talk to either of his best friends… and he was sure no answers would be forthcoming from Parvati or Lavender. Besides the fact that he would have to spend half the conversation translating giggles and squeals into actual words, he was very skeptical that they wouldn't have anything useful to tell him about Hermione—she was so completely different from them. So, he decided, he'd start by asking the other Sixth Year boys. They might have some advice, right?

Right.

Squaring his shoulders for what he was sure would be an uncomfortable and embarrassing conversation, Ron steeled himself and marched up the stairs to his dorm.

* * *

Meanwhile, down in the Potions dungeon, Harry found himself facing the business end of Snape's wand for the umpteenth time in an hour. The lesson had actually been going quite well, if Harry could say so himself. So far, Snape had not been able to get through Harry's block once—though, of course, Snape had become more and more irritable as the lesson wore on. 

Now, however, Harry was getting tired and worn down from Snape's constant mental attacks, and it was getting much harder to keep his barriers up. He knew that Snape would be casting _legilimens_ within the next couple of moments, and he tried to brace himself; it was a no go.

Snape was attacking Harry's mental walls viciously, and though Harry was sweating bullets and putting all his power into keeping his barriers up, they were crumbling; he knew Snape would be in his mind very shortly. On a stray and very random thought, Harry wondered if one might classify the case as one of _Occlumentile Dysfunction._

That one stray, unfocused, thought was apparently all Snape needed, because at that precise moment, Harry's walls were shattered and he began seeing some of his own memories flashing in his mind's eye.

He saw an image of Ron snoring away in History of Magic, and then a recent Quidditch practice, and then Sirius falling through the veil…

"No!" screamed Harry's thoughts, and he registered vaguely that he heard himself shouting it out loud as well. Sirius was one thing he'd never allow Snape to taint. Though Harry had made great strides in getting over his godfather's death, it was still a huge sore spot, and one he would not allow Snape to poke into.

Harry focused all his energy into forcing Snape out, and within a couple moments, he was seeing a very different image—though it still involved Sirius.

_Sirius was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a man who looked exactly like the pictures Harry had seen of his father, grinning and looking younger and happier than Harry had ever seen him. Both men were wearing flowing white robes, cheap and fake wings you could find in any muggle costume shop, and plastic halos that were clearly being held above their heads by another piece of plastic._

_The two men exchanged grins, and then looked back to Snape._

"_You look surprised," Sirius commented, still grinning like a Cheshire cat._

"_You look ridiculous in that outfit," Snape quickly spat back, "I thought you—"_

Before Harry could see anymore, he found himself back in the dungeon, and facing a _very_ irritated Snape. Expecting his greasy Potions Professor to attack his mind even more violently Harry tried to ready himself. When no attack was forthcoming, he glanced back at the Potions Master.

"Sir?"

"This lesson is over," Snape ground out, and pointed at the door.

Harry didn't need telling twice.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you to Insanity-of-the-owl, BuckNC, and Augurey Song for reviewing.


	3. Chapter 2: Gotta Knock a Little Harder

**Disclaimer:** The one from the first couple of chapters still applies.

Chapter 2: Gotta Knock a Little Harder

"So let me get this straight," said Dean, from where he was laying, sprawled out on his four-poster. "You're coming to Seamus and me for… advice on what to do about Hermione."

Ron was already regretting ever initiating this conversation.

"Yeah," he said.

"Because Harry refused to help you—" Dean continued.

"'Don't know and has no opinion' my arse," muttered Ron angrily under his breath.

"And you've decided going to her dorm mates would be useless, despite the fact that they've shared a room with her for six years now, and would be a much better authority on how girls think?"

He knew Dean was intentionally making him feel dim, but hesitantly nodded anyway.

"…And you're asking me to do this for you after you demolished any chance I had with your sister?" asked Dean with a mutinous look on his face.

Aside from being very embarrassed, Ron was starting to feel very nervous as well.

"Um… er… yeah?"

"Merlin, you're pathetic, Weasley."

"Seems that way," agreed Seamus from his own four-poster.

Ron felt his face begin to heat up.

"Look, do you think I mean to be such a prat to Hermione?"

Dean went back to sketching something on a piece of parchment. Seamus simply shrugged.

"Seems that way," he said again.

"C'mon, I need your help—" Dean snorted from his bed, but Ron ignored him and kept speaking, "If I don't sort this out with her, I'm going to be in very deep shite…"

"Seems that way," said Seamus amicably.

Ron had a hard time stopping himself from growling in frustration.

Dean looked up from his drawing. "Ron, I'm not helping you. Even if I had advice for you, which I don't, I'm not feeling very charitable towards you at the moment."

He didn't have to ask why. He also didn't need a mirror to tell him that his face and ears had turned an extraordinary shade of red.

"What about you?" he demanded, rounding on Seamus, "I suppose you don't have any advice to offer, either?"

Barely able to keep his face impassive, Seamus looked at the irate red-head. "Seems that way."

Unable to control himself any longer, Ron roared in frustration and stomped out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room, where he proceeded to thoroughly scare a group of first years before throwing himself into his favorite chair in front of the fire.

Once they were sure that Ron was out of hearing range, Dean and Seamus burst into hysteric laughter.

* * *

No more than two minutes after Ron threw himself, scowling, into his armchair, Harry came flying into the common room. Ron noted that he had a very strange expression on his face—from what he could tell, it was half excitement and half blatant confusion. After quickly looking around the common room, Harry spotted Ron and made his way over to him post-haste.

"Ron," he said breathlessly, "you'll never guess what happened in Occ… erm… in remedial potions."

Seeing as he was still very peeved at the general lack of help or understanding coming his way, Ron felt he could be forgiven for his lack of enthusiasm.

"Snape transfigured himself into a red-eyed coyote?" he guessed listlessly.

"No, he… what?"

Ron sighed. "Nevermind. What happened?"

Now that he knew he had his best friend's full attention, Harry happily plopped down into a conveniently located over-stuffed chair.

"Well, it happened right near the end of the lesson," he began, "I'd been doing rather well, I think, but I was getting tired and Snape managed to get in… made me remember Sirius."

Here, Harry's excitement dropped off a bit, and as Ron watched him collecting himself, he felt guilty for his irritability. His friend really had too much to deal with these days.

"Anyway," continued Harry, "I forced him out and ended up in _his_ mind."

"But you've done that before, haven't you?" questioned Ron, failing to see what was so exciting.

"Yeah, but here's where it gets interesting… I saw a bit of one of his memories. He was… somewhere, I couldn't really tell where it was—everything was completely white—but he was talking to Sirius." Harry paused here before saying, with much less certainty, "And I think… my Dad was there as well."

There were a couple moments in which Ron was trying to flounder around for something to say in response to this, before he finally asked, "How do you know it wasn't a really old memory?"

"I… it just wasn't; I can't explain how I know, but I do."

"Okay, well… that is, what do you suppose it was, then?"

"I have no idea."

After that, the pair sat in silence, Harry staring into the fire with an almost-smile on his face, and Ron puzzled over what he'd just been told, puzzled over Hermione, and puzzled in general.

When a few minutes had passed, Ron finally had to break the silence.

"Harry," he said.

"Hmm?"

"Will you _please_ help me with Hermione?"

Much to Ron's chagrin, Harry simply shot him an amused look, stated he was going to send Lupin a letter, and made his way out of the common room.

Ron was left in the same mood as he was when Harry initially burst in, and had a similar scowl on his face. Ginny, who had come down the stairs in time to see Ron's last question (and its subsequent non-answer), sat down in the chair that had just been vacated.

"You two have a fight?" she asked, smirking.

Ron glared at her and muttered the response. "No, so _can_ it. You're being obnoxious."

Ginny was unrepentant.

"Huh. Really?"

"I said _can it!_ He can do whatever the hell he wants!"

With that, he stormed away.

Ginny watched her brother leave, still wearing the same smirk on her face. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh god, men are such _babies_."

She spared some time to laugh over her brother's many issues, but not very long after he stomped off, her chair was once again vacated, and she was gone through the portrait hole.

* * *

In between looking up another piece of information on Francois Tivrusky IV (a strange witch who insisted on calling herself Edward, but was primarily known for inventing several strange and unique—but seldom used—potions), and scrawling a sentence onto her parchment, Hermione sighed contentedly. The library was her sanctuary and, as far as she was concerned, was vastly unappreciated. Here was where she went for her precious books, where she went for quiet, and where she went to isolate herself from Ronald Weasley and his abominable snoring.

"Hey Hermione," she heard, followed by someone plunking down in the chair opposite and casually dropping a couple books on the table.

The library, Hermione continued in her musings, was also where she went in order to avoid all people of the Weasley variety in general. Usually, the tactic was wonderfully effective, as most of them seemed to have a strong aversion to it. But of course, Ginny Weasley lived to defy all rules and precedents.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione replied without looking up from her essay.

"What are you working on?"

"An essay for Potions."

Ginny leaned over the table in order to read some of what Hermione had written down. "'One of Tivrusky's most well-known innovations was the Radical Intellect Elixir, which served to drastically- albeit temporarily- increase one's comprehension and ability to memorize facts. However, the potion soon fell out of favor as it also induced radically lowered inhibitions and a skyrocketing energy-level…'"

She settled back down in her own chair. "Fascinating," she said drolly.

Hermione finally looked up from her parchment, frowning slightly. "I think it's rather interesting."

"You think everything's _rather interesting._ But do you know what's much more interesting?"

The bushy-haired girl made no reply, but raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Ginny grinned. "The frantic way my dear brother is acting, in all of his attempts to make up for what happened this morning."

Hermione _tsked_ and went back to her book, muttering under her breath. "…even Binns noticed, honestly… never takes anything seriously…"

Ginny Weasley, however, was very proud of her skills of observation, and did not miss that the other girl was trying and failing from keeping her mouth from turning up at the corners.

"So," began the red-head with a smirk on her face, "I know you're not as clueless as Ron, so when are you going to stop beating around the bush and get rid of some of that… frustration… you two have been working up? I mean, Merlin knows why you're attracted to that prat, of all people, but when are you going to acknowledge what's going on between you two?"

Hermione had stopped writing for a beat, but then continued on her essay, as if Ginny hadn't spoken. When she had waited a few moments for a response and none was forthcoming, Ginny was about to speak again, but she was beaten to it.

"You've had a few boyfriends," said Hermione casually, "yet you've never been particularly upset when you break up or your brothers chase them away." She stopped speaking for a moment as she quickly scribbled something in the margins of the book, but then continued, "It's kind of curious. Is there something… or someone, perhaps… that you're waiting for?"

Ginny glared at Hermione. As far as she was concerned, that was way below the belt.

"What does that have to do with it?" she asked stiffly.

"Nothing at all," replied Hermione calmly.

After drawing a deep, calming breath, Ginny asked, "So when are you going to answer my question?"

"When you answer mine."

The red-haired girl stared at Hermione in disbelief for a few seconds before huffily opening her transfiguration textbook and beginning an essay for McGonagall.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Augurey Song-** I'm glad you enjoyed the image of Padfoot and Prongs in angel costumes. There'll be more of them in the future… wink, wink

**Sandcastles-at-Midnight**- Thanks!


	4. Chapter 3: What Planet Is This?

**Disclaimer-** The one from the first couple chapters still holds true.

**Author Notes-** Sorry about the delay in update… I wanted to get a new chapter up a couple weeks ago, but classes attacked, along with a small case of writer's block.

The idea for Jazz-fiend Remus comes directly from the Shoebox Project (go check it out on Livejournal if you haven't read it yet). I think any Bebop fans should be very amused by this chapter, with the characters that M,P&P are channeling.

Chapter 3: What Planet Is This?

Shortly after leaving the Common Room, Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he could write his letter in peace—and without a fuming Ron to distract him.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's behavior; it was about time Ron did something about his feelings towards Hermione. Unbeknownst to the youngest male Weasley, there was actually a sizable betting pool, consisting of almost the entirety of Gryffindor, which was based around when the pair would finally size up to the truth. Harry hadn't placed a bet—both because he didn't need the money, and he didn't want to deal with the repercussions when they found out about it. However, just watching Ron and Hermione dance circles around each other was enough to provide a good deal of entertainment.

Soon, Harry reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and proceeded to walk back forth three times, thinking of a room where he could relax and write his letter to Remus. The door appeared, and he went into the room and sank down into a squishy armchair (remarkably similar to his favorite in the Gryffindor Common Room).

He took out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and some ink, and set to work writing the note. It took some thinking to word things right; he didn't want to run the risk of revealing sensitive information if Hedwig was intercepted. Unfortunately, this made it very difficult to actually relate what happened in the occlumency lesson. In the end, he had to settle for being extremely vague and asking Remus to come speak with him in person.

When he was finally finished, he saw that it was too late to send Hedwig out with the letter. He'd have to send it before classes the next morning. Harry gathered up his letter, quill, and ink before making his way back to the Tower.

* * *

The next day, Remus was sitting in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, in the midst of a discussion with Nymphadora Tonks.

"… a prophecy?" the metamorphmagus asked skeptically.

"So Charlie says, 'only hands can wash hands. If you want to receive, you have to give.' Something like thatI wish I could remember the exact wording." Remus trailed off, a pensive look on his face, but then resumed speaking. "Anyway, I think Charlie's telling us to just do it. What do you make of it?"

"Somehow, I don't think Charlie Parker'd be quoting Goethe," she said, smiling bemusedly.

Remus sighed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, I feel embarrassed simply speaking about it, but I still believe the idea has merit."

Tonks laughed. "Remus, I'm all for the idea of inducting Harry into the Order early—it only makes sense, doesn't it, with everything that seems to happen to him?

No, I'm just concerned over your obsession with jazz music—to the point of speaking to Charlie Parker in your dreams!" she said teasingly.

Remus smiled sheepishly. "I've always been a fan of jazz. Sirius and James used to love taking the mickey out of me for it."

Tonks said nothing in response as the werewolf's eyes briefly clouded over at the thought of Sirius. His eyes cleared quickly, but neither of two said anything. Before they could descend into awkward silence, Hedwig arrived.

The owl settled herself smoothly on the arm of Remus' chair and held out her leg, waiting for him to remove the parchment.

"That's Harry's owl, right?"

Remus nodded in the affirmative as he opened the note. He smiled as he read it over, but his brow furrowed in confusion as he neared the end.

"That's odd…"

"What is it?" asked Tonks.

"Read it for yourself," he said, handing her the note.

She glanced at him and then curiously turned her attention to the parchment.

_Remus,_

_How are you? I hope everything is going well in London, and everyone is well._

_It has actually been pretty quiet here—relatively speaking, I mean. The D.A. is going well, and we won our first Quidditch match of the year: 220 to 70 in the match against Slytherin. Snape still acts like a git, but I've been making headway in remedial potions._

_Speaking of remedial potions, something weird happened in there tonight. I thought I saw Snuffles and Prongs at one point. They looked really happy. I can't really explain it well in a letter, but are you coming to Hogwarts anytime soon? If so, I can explain it better in person._

_Say hi to everyone- and 'Watcher' to Tonks- for me._

_-Harry_

As she finished reading, Tonks looked to Remus in confusion. "What does he mean, 'he saw Snuffles and Prongs?'" she asked.

"I don't know. I was planning on visiting Hogwarts in soon, anyway, partly to look in on his D.A. and see how he's really doing. We'll be able to talk about it then."

Remus quickly wrote a reply to Harry, informing him of his plans to visit, and asking him when his next D.A. meeting was. He gave it to Hedwig and watched the owl fly away.

"Well," said Tonks, "whatever it is, make sure you tell me about it. Knowing Harry, it's bound to be interesting."

* * *

At Hogwarts, the day passed in a generally unremarkable manner. By the time dinner had rolled around, Hermione seemed to have all but forgiven Ron. Ron, however, was oblivious, as he kept glaring at Dean and Seamus, and occasionally staring off into space—with a look on his face remarkably like one that Hermione often had, usually she was about to come up with one of her brilliant ideas.

Harry, though amused, let his friend's weird behavior go without comment. He was sure he could tease him all he wanted once his two best friends got themselves sorted out.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to see the grinning face of Ginny Weasley.

"You sure you don't wanna place a bet?" she asked, "Nobody's called this weekend yet, and it looks like something's going to happen pretty soon."

He smiled, but shook his head. "I'm sure. I think I'm safer if I don't place a bet."

"So, you can face You-Know-Who multiple times, but you need protection from _those_ two?" laughed Ginny.

"Well, you know what Hermione is capable of," he paused to grin at her, "and Voldemort isn't a red-head."

Ginny couldn't help but laugh outright at that. "You're a strange one, Potter."

"You think so?" he asked, grinning even more widely.

As a result of that grin, Ginny felt a bolt of nervous excitement in her stomach—and then felt someone kick her in the leg. She glanced away from Harry briefly, to see Hermione smiling pointedly at her. Returning to her conversation with Harry, she returned a kick in Hermione's general direction. Hard.

"_Ow_!" yelped Ron, who had once again had that thoughtful look on his face, "Who kicked me?"

Apparently, Ginny had missed. Oh well.

Ron saw that no answer was forthcoming, so he scowled, stood up, and limped out of the Great Hall.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, but was also smiling in the direction Ron had gone. Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances.

* * *

After that particularly unfulfilling dinner, Ron slowly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He told the Fat Lady the password, and headed through the portrait hole to collapse, once again, in his favorite chair by the fire.

"Ugh… what am I going to do?" he groaned.

"Er… Ron?"

Upon realizing that someone else was in the common room with him, Ron quickly jumped out of the chair and spun around to see who surprised him.

"What—oh, hey, Neville."

"What's the matter? Is Hermione still angry at you?" Neville asked, stopping at the Tower exit.

"I think so," mumbled Ron glumly. "I don't suppose you have any advice to offer, do you?" He didn't have much hope, but he had to ask anyway.

"I'm probably not the best person to ask for advice," Neville cautioned.

Ron dropped his face into his hands. "S'okay," Neville heard his muffled voice reply, "I understand…"

"Sorry," he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, and then headed out of the common room. As he made his way to the library, Neville wondered if Ron would be able to hold off from whatever he was going to do until a week after Thursday… it would be nice to have a few extra galleons for spending money…

* * *

Remus settled himself down in bed, grateful for being able to rest after another stressful day of working with the order. He was so exhausted that his head had barely hit the pillow before he slipped from consciousness.

_He was sitting in a bar, and was listening to Jelly Roll Norton play. Idly, Remus noted that Tonks might have been right to be concerned with his Jazz obsession. The bar was crowded with other people, but their faces were all indistinct, and he sat by himself at a table with two other empty chairs. He felt something in his hand and looked down to see that he was holding a glass tumbler three-quarters filled with whiskey. That was odd... Remus rarely drank, and even less often in dreams._

_Suddenly, the scene of his dream faded away, leaving him sitting at the table with his tumbler of whiskey, completely surrounded by white. After a moment of adjustment, he noted that the previously empty chairs were now occupied. He raised a single eyebrow._

"_Muahahahaha," laughed James, in what Remus remembered was his best imitation of maniacal laughter._

_Sirius gave his characteristic bark of laughter, and addressed the werewolf. "You jazz fiend, you. Having more dreams of dead yanks playing the piano?"_

_Remus gave no reply, but promptly drained his whiskey._

"_Isn't it bad for your health to drink it all in one gulp, Moony?" asked a smirking James._

"_What's bad for my health is seeing you come back to life," he replied dryly, "or whatever this is. It's a shock to the system."

* * *

_

Harry was the last person in the common room at half past midnight, finishing up his essay on the basic theory of the animagus transformation for McGonagall. Though the NEWT class was assured by their strict professor that, 'no, she would not be teaching the transformation and no, she did not in any way condone or approve of them attempting to learn it on their own,' Harry still wanted to try and achieve it. It would be a link to his Dad and Sirius, and it probably be useful in the fight against Voldemort.

After he scrawled the last line of his essays, Harry trudged his way up the stairs to his dorm room and got ready for bed. He made sure to practice his occlumency before going to sleep, but his dreams still revolved around making the marauders proud and transforming into a hawk, and sometimes a lion, and at one point even a wolf. And then his dreams became very strange indeed…

_He found himself surrounded by white as he watched Lupin, Sirius, and his father sitting around a table, happily playing cards. Quite suddenly, Sirius slammed his palm down on the table and began cursing._

"_Son of a bitch!"_

_Lupin and James rolled their eyes, not seeming at all surprised by this outburst._

"_Here it comes," Harry heard Lupin mutter._

"_We wouldn't be able to eat here if it weren't what I've done!" exclaimed Sirius, leaving Harry very bewildered. There was nothing at all surrounding the group, much less a restaurant, or any place that would even make that statement make sense._

"_Why," continued Sirius, "I remember that summer I worked my arse off on that farm with my two good buddies, and this is the thanks I get?"_

"_Padfoot," James said in a bored tone, "That was the farm that belonged to Moony's uncle, and Moony and I are the 'two good buddies' you're talking about!"_

"_And there is no way you could ever possibly still have money from that summer. As I recall, you spent it all as soon as you earned it, on that monstrosity you call a motorbike," said Lupin._

_Sirius seemed to lose a little of the conversation as he smiled fondly in remembrance. "Ah, my motorbike. I loved that monstrosity."_

"_That was a good summer," said James, "but hard work; we planted those seeds like there was no tomorrow."_

"_You were always planting seeds of a different kind, though," Lupin said wryly to Sirius._

_Sirius grinned unabashedly. "Aye, that I did."

* * *

_

Harry woke and sat up straight in his four-poster, eyes wide and very confused.

"What the bloody hell?"

* * *

"_You know," said Sirius conversationally, "I think we just scared the sprog."_

"_Scarred for life, more like," muttered Remus._

_James looked at Remus and grinned slightly. "By the way, I've been wondering why you didn't start freaking out more when you found yourself sitting at a table playing cards with two of your dead best friends."_

"_Yes, well, I just assumed that I'm either hallucinating or that you two have decided to demonstrate that the word 'impossible' still does not apparently apply to you."_

"_Bah, Moony, you're too reasonable. It's no fun. What the point in visiting you and disrupting your dreams if you don't even panic at the sight of us?"_

"_Hmm," replied Remus._

_The three men all put down their hands, exposing their cards._

"_Haha!" crowed Sirius, "I win!"_

_Remus and James rolled their eyes at each other once again._

"_I don't even know what we were playing for," commented Remus._

_Sirius, seeming to ignore him, grinned and turned to James. "So…is there any message you want me to pass on to your son tomorrow night?"

* * *

_

**Author Notes:**

**Tweeny-Weeny- **I hope you enjoyed the infamous P&P in this chapter!

**Augurey Song, BuckNC-** I'm glad to see Seamus and Dean got the reaction I was hoping for… I must admit I had a lot of fun writing that interaction.


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